


A Taste for Guilt

by dendrite_blues, Hyrulehalfbreed



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1980s, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Bloodplay, Developing Relationship, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family Secrets, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), M/M, Marvel Norse Lore, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology - Freeform, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Stalking, Urban Fantasy, Vampire Tony Stark, Worldbuilding, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-01-15 02:50:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendrite_blues/pseuds/dendrite_blues, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyrulehalfbreed/pseuds/Hyrulehalfbreed
Summary: After death, there is hunger. For a hundred years that's all Tony has known, the constant drive to hunt and feed. That is, until a new and irresistible scent catches his attention.-Loki is stuck in a rut. Unwilling to follow his father's restrictions over his college major, he spends his days waiting for a change, something he can look forward to besides working, sleeping, and sleeping around.When they meet, sparks fly.A discord roleplay turned political thriller with lots of worldbuilding and some spicy smut.Loki written by Hyrulehalfbreed and Tony written by dendrite-blues.Posted in celebration of Halloween 2019. Happy Spooks, friends! ;p





	1. Chapter 1

After death, there is scent. 

A surprising fact. The eyes take time to reanimate, and the limbs remain caught in rigor mortis for days, but the sense of smell returns almost immediately, powerfully, and with a new predatory dimension that all vampires come to know as Thirst.

Tony's was guilt. He could scent it from five miles out, could pick out each individual’s unique and personal strain. Guilt was everywhere in the city, practically a plague, but what he craved was more rare. 

At first he did not understand it, he was simply a puppet. Like a child that knows he must eat but fusses and picks at his food, mouthing senseless complaints. It's too old or it's too young or it's hair gel smells bad. Eventually he worked it out.

Guilt. The guilt of an innocent man. Not just a meal, but a _ victim _. His Beast hungered for injustice and he could not change it if he tried. And so he adapted, he became Kindred, a predator behind a human face. There was no room for morality. His Thirst was his Thirst, and he could either sate it or die.

But in recent weeks something had changed. A new scent drifting along the rain slick streets. It licks at the edges of his senses all the time like a gnat. Delicious, distracting. The Everclear of aromas. So strong, so pure.

Tony would stop at nothing to taste it, but it was elusive. Whenever he thought he was close it disappeared and resurfaced somewhere else.

After a month he wised up and found a cafe to crash in, waiting for the mark to come to him. By the time it happened he hadn’t fed for weeks and he thought he might be manic. 

It was a _ man _. Black hair and dancer’s legs. A long dormant twitch remind sparked in his groin, and he remembered he could hunger for more things than blood.

With this man he wanted all of them.

_ Loki. _ The name hit him like a benediction. His fascination, his most salivating snack. 

The musicality of the name took on a reverence in his mind. _ Lo—ki. _

Pricking up his ears, he listened to the dull conversation, watching the bored tap of lacquered nails and the sensual rippling of muscle under second-skin pants. Leather, studded. He grinned, careful to look into his drink so as not to be conspicuous.

If a man dressed like that did not enjoy the company of men then fashion had truly transcended comprehension. This would be easy.

He waited, and eventually the man grew tired of his companion. They hugged, the big blonde smacking fine-boned shoulders in a fraternal goodbye, and then they were off into the streets. Finally. Tony's mouth watered, and he dissolved into shadow.

At first he worried he wouldn’t have an opportunity to pounce. The man was on the border of a rival’s territory and once he passed State Street he would be out of bounds. Disappointment stung Tony’s gut, but then the man took an unexpected left into an unclaimed alley and his fangs descended on their own.

He swooped, materializing and tackling the man into the nearest graffiti stained wall. In the space between one breath and the next he had the man’s neck between his lips, his scent invading his nostrils, and his sweet, succulent blood dripping down his tongue.

Despite himself he moaned. The taste was unlike any other, the aroma a fog in his mind that had his nethers swelling. The man struggled and hit, but it was nothing beside the thrumming pleasure and the burn of power transferring to him. He bit down, savoring, and enjoyed the tremors of his prey.

More than good, more than filling—the taste was intoxicating.

* * *

It had been such a _ normal _ night, practically dull besides the fact that he had given into Thor’s pestering to meet for a drink, to catch-up as it were. The conversation went as well as Loki had expected, Thor speaking his praises for the doctor. No? Was it a scientist? They probably had some form of doctorate to have the title. It didn’t matter, Loki knew that the relationship was bound to fail. 

The woman was too smart for his oaf of a brother. Oh, there was plenty to love about the man, but not for such an adept mind. Soon, this Jane Foster would grow frustrated when Thor did not share her excitement in her studies and discoveries. About the same time, Thor would also grow disheartened that she didn’t beam at how he busted off the buttons on his shirt when he flexed. 

His brother wasn’t an idiot, per say, he just did not have a head for the higher sciences or politics. 

Thor’s failing in the later field was what led to so many of Loki’s own troubles. 

Odin Borison, he was a well respected, high ranking judge and people all across the country knew his name. He was also Thor’s father and Loki’s, apparently, adoptive one. When he realized his eldest didn’t have a head for following in his footsteps, the old man had decided to finally turn his attention to the younger. He pushed and demanded that Loki eventually don the court robes he did. 

And, oh, Loki would have done it, had planned on doing it right after he graduated high school. There were plenty of universities throwing scholarships his way, but then Loki had found that damning little paper tucked away in Odin’s office. Loki hadn’t meant to find the adoption papers, he had been searching for a different form for his applications. 

When confronted his mother had cried and Odin, stone-faced as always, had said that it changed nothing. Loki didn’t believe that for a second. If it truly meant nothing then why had they treated this like a dirty secret for so long? There had been yelling, broken furniture, and bruised egos that had Loki leaving home and retreating to live in an apartment with his friend Amora. 

Odin didn’t cut him off financially, Thor had swore time and again that the door was still open to him, and his mother still had his love.Yet, Loki could not make himself return. 

While Odin gave him enough money to survive relatively comfortably, he refused to pay for Loki’s education if he wasn’t going into a field he approved of. He couldn’t have his image tarnished in the public’s eye. Loki also couldn’t accept his scholarships because the old bastard was holding some of the personal information he needed for the applications hostage. 

Now, here he was working full-time in a little bookstore and two years of sitting on his arse under his belt without being able to progress. If there was one thing that Loki hated, it was the feeling of being stagnant. 

There was little he could do. His life was a monotone cycle, rinse, repeat, nothing exciting. Nothing more challenging than verbally eviscerating the occasional annoying college student trying to sell their old, worthless textbooks covered in pen and ripped all to hell. 

These thoughts he constantly brooded over and they were still in his head when he parted ways with Thor for the evening. Was it his fault in some way that things turned out the way they had? Was he too prideful, too stubborn? Was he to blame for his own stagnant misfortune? Was he the reason behind Frigga’s recent poor health, her illness brought about by her worry over him?

Loki needed a smoke, but when he searched the pockets of his jacket, he came up empty. 

Thor, that son of a bi—no, their mother was lovely, he wouldn’t even think badly upon her. When they had hugged, the blond must have snuck the carton out of his pocket while Loki was distracted by the feeling of his life being squeezed out of him. 

Honestly, Loki would have been impressed if he wasn’t hurting for his fix of nicotine. A bad habit he knew. One that he had picked up while living with Amora, though he was pretty successful at keeping his clothes and the flat from smelling of the stuff. Amora still complained when she got kicked to the fire escape when she needed a fag. 

He had taken the alley because of his missing sticks, knowing that the other end of it emptied out close to a convenience store where he could buy more. 

Then his head was spinning from practically cracking it on the rough, greasy bricks he found his face being pressing to.

Was he being mugged? Loki believed that this was a very distinct possibility as his vision swam. He tried to say something, perhaps call for help or tell the thug to just take his wallet and leave him be. That could be replaced, his life, while he didn’t believe it was much of one at the moment, couldn’t be. 

Before he could get a word out, pain, blinding pain radiated from the left side of his neck. Gods, did the other just dig a knife in? Was his throat about to be slit? 

The pain didn’t move, and Loki couldn’t do much but squirm and try to knock his assailant off. He might as well have been fighting a second brick wall like that he was being forced against. 

The moan, the sound sent shivers down Loki’s aching spine as he was forced to arch back into the tight hold a hand had on his hair. The voice told him it was a man. 

Maybe _ beast _ was a better title however, as he felt a hot wet tongue working along the wound on his throat, urging more blood to flow. The wet, lewd, sucking sounds were unfamiliar in this context as Loki realized the other was literally _ drinking _ him. 

One arm of the attacker was braced across the backs of his shoulders, the other limb holding Loki’s head steady and fisted in his locks to keep his prey from looking at him. The man’s hips were flush against his own, legs bracketing Loki’s thighs tightly together so he couldn’t kick him. 

There was definitely something pressing into him, felt through the tight leather that covered Loki’s ass. 

The pain was ebbing, but so was Loki’s strength to fight back. There was something, other, replacing it. 

His head felt foggy, the pain turning into almost stinging pleasure that had Loki panting, moaning, now writhing against the rough stone. Shit, his mind and body were torn, wanting to press back into that source of pleasure, but at the same time wanting to flee from his approaching demise. 

In one single moment Loki’s world flashed, and then white fell into all encompassing black.

* * *

The body went limp under him and Tony's Beast purred. 

His body had thrilled when the man surrendered, his fists falling to grip the unforgiving ground as his hips angled to meet Tony’s unconscious movements. Had the man enjoyed his bite? It certainly seemed so. How…_ charming _.

Losing himself to the euphoria of a fresh feed, he ground his hips into his captive victim's back and growled, lightheaded with a kind of high he'd never gotten from blood alone.

Was the man drunk, perhaps? High? Tony hadn't seen him drink more than a few beers, his blood shouldn't be toxic enough to affect him. Curious. Whatever the reason, he made himself stop before he drained the entrancing mortal dry. If he left him to die he would never get to feast on him again, after all.

Generally, he would not take from the same donor twice anyway. Bonds and all that. Nasty business, blood bonds. But this was too tempting, the rush and the smell and the way it made his veins feel full and charged with power. No, he would not be able to resist the scent for long.

His course decided, he pinched the wound closed with his blunt lower teeth and gave one last indulgent suck to close it, licking liberally so it would close overnight. By comparison it was much more difficult to still the movement of his hips, the unfamiliar pleasure heady and addictive. 

How long had it been since he had felt the urge to rut? A hundred years at least, perhaps longer. And with a _ human _ no less, he really was disgusting. 

It was unwise to be so compromised this close to a rival’s turf. Hammer would salivate at the opportunity to knock him off the food chain, he knew that for a fact. And it was only that threat that sobered him enough to pry his hands off of his meal. Survival always came first in a Kindred’s mind, no matter how tantalizing the distraction.

Slipping his hand into the man's back pocket he found a wallet. Black leather double fold, connected to his waist by a chain. Tch, humans. So naive.

Inside was an assortment of business cards. Laundromat, barber, health insurance. The drivers license listed him as Loki Borison, and he found the same surname on a stack of identical business cards shoved under a small photo of the blonde from the bar. 

A lawyer? That could prove problematic.

Law men always caught on quicker than most. They had a knack for observation.

Pocketing the card, he made a note of the man's address and the establishments he seemed to frequent. Other vamps had a habit of stealing trinkets, but with a photographic memory Tony didn't need to.

Giving into a mounting curiosity, he turned the limp man onto his back and hovered close over his face.

He was gorgeous. Skin as pale as moonlight and full, bowed lips. Dark, well manicured brows and a long, pointed nose. Tony's dick twitched in his jeans and he had to suppress another rolling surge of desire. 

Pressing his nose under the man's ear, he inhaled one last hit of that indescribable pheromone and groaned rough and low. Licking the other side of that corded, beautiful neck he drug his teeth down the line of his artery in a turnicated yearning for more. 

If it weren’t for a commotion on the nearby street he most certainly would have given in, but the crashing of trash can lids and the laughing of drunkards returned him to his senses. Not yet. Too risky. Home.

Lifting him in his arms, Tony shifted the weight until it was balanced and glanced down the silhouetted boundaries of the dingy, garbage strewn alley. All clear, for now. Locating north by the direction of the wind, he melded into the darkness and made his way toward “Loki Borison's” home.

* * *

When he rose the next morning, Loki was fairly certain that he had been hit by a bus, a train, and then finally Thor all in one night. 

His mind was fuzzy from sleep, refusing to follow his demands to remember what the hel had happened. Tea, that was what would probably help put him to rights. His mother had taught him to live by that rule, though Thor with his lack of taste buds constantly burnt his tongue on over-brewed coffee grinds and swore that it was the nectar of the gods. 

Getting up from his bed was harder than he thought, body feeling heavy and sore. Loki was also confused by the fact that he was still dressed in the clothes that he had went to the bar in. The leather pants he thought might entice another man to play felt uncomfortable from day old sweat and… Loki felt his cheeks burn as he quickly stripped himself of his underwear as well. Pulling on a pair of emerald green sweatpants and black tank, he pushed himself out of his room. 

He stumbled every other step, had to keep a hand braced against the wall until he could grasp the kitchen island. 

As the kettle began to boil he searched for something to eat. Of course Amora had ignored the note and grocery list that he had left on the refrigerator but he still found some bread for toast, thankfully not moldy, and a couple fruit cups. 

As he set the bag of leaves to seep, the door opened with a bang and a torrent of sound that had Loki’s head pounding. Blond hair, green eyes, makeup and perfume assaulted all of Loki’s poor abused senses as Amora sashayed her way into the kitchen. How she always managed to still sashay while loaded down with multiple shopping bags, a giant purse, and a paper cup of coffee, Loki never understood. 

“Loki, darling, you’ve joined the land of the living!” Amora beamed as she swept over to her flatmate, hugging him despite his weak flails to fight her off. “And, oh, it looks like someone had fun last night. Didn’t notice that lovely souvenir when I checked in on ya.” 

“What are you blathering about now?” Loki was far too tired for this, tea scalding his tongue, but he needed the caffeine now more than ever with Amora home. 

“You don’t know? You _ really _ don’t?” Now the blond bombshell looked positively gleeful as she dug into her purse to snatch her compact, opening the gaudy thing with a snickering, “Ta da~!”

There on the right side of his neck was a mottled splotch of purple, green, and angry red, only after seeing it did he feel the tenderness of the spot. 

“So, soooo, who’s the lucky fella that mauled your neck? Must have been real good if you look like death warmed over.” She prodded, touching the bruise and cooing apologetically when Loki hissed in pain. 

“I…” His brows pinched as he tried to put the pieces of what happened last night back together, he had left the bar, parted ways with Thor, was angry about cigarettes, and… His head pounded, like it had been hit with something, his stomach immediately felt queasy too, “..don’t remember.” 

“Oh hun, how can you forget your cherry bein’ popped?!” 

“First of all, I’m hardly a virgin and you know it. Second, I really doubt that he was that good if I’m not feeling anything besides a pain in the neck and tired.” Loki dismissed, trying to hide how discomforted he actually felt by his missing chunk of memory. He had gotten home mostly whole and sound, and nothing looked out of place in the apartment either. 

Amora cackled and they fell back into easy conversation, but Loki couldn’t help the creeping feeling down his spine. It didn’t go away either over the next week, it felt like he was constantly being watched, but he could never find the source. He was just being paranoid, that had to be it. 

* * *

Some nights later, Tony slumped into a hard-plastic bucket chair in the neighborhood establishment officially known as the Moralez Super Lavanderia, but colloquially referred to simply as 'The Super." 

It was something of a multi-purpose trip, given that being undead did not release him from all of life's little errands. Groceries? Not necessary. Hair cuts? Only if he wanted to. But good hygiene, that still had to be maintained—perhaps moreso now that he regularly got himself covered in someone else's blood.

This week he had found ways to make the chore more enjoyable though, which he was fairly pleased with. For one, the location. Loki had a card for this establishment in his wallet, which meant the man could walk by at any moment, and that beat doing laundry alone at his house by a mile. For two, he'd brought entertainment.

Slipping the soft foam headphones over his ears, he traced his finger over the smooth plastic buttons of the Walkman on his belt and pressed play. The turning of the washing machines made a kind of synchronous motion with the spinning of the cassette spools, and he laid his head back on the glass to listen.

He'd already listened several times, so many he nearly had it memorized. Among his favorite parts were the groan Loki made as he got out of bed, and the ghosting his breath over the hidden microphone in his unused coffee maker. 

Sounds Tony knew were not sexual in nature but that nevertheless made his dick twitch in his pants. Yes, he was sick. He knew that for sure now, but it was too late. The sensations were branded into his memory and his body wanted more, wanted to taste and fuck and devour.

On the recording, the roommate walked in and Tony grinned, careful to keep his lips closed over his teeth. He could mouth along to the words by now, knew every sensuous syllable.

"...I really doubt that he was that good if I’m not feeling anything besides a pain in the neck-" Tony whispered along with Loki's rumbling, molting voice.

Knowing he couldn't attract attention, he crossed his legs and breathed deeply, willing his body to stop whatever madness this siren of a human had inflicted on him. 

Sex and blood ran deep, it was not so unusual for a being such as him to find the wires crossing when it came to a particular individual, but usually his kind kept to their own. To feel this for a mortal was entirely unprecedented. It felt preternatural, like a magnet dragging him in.

He _ wanted _ Loki. Wanted to devour him whole, to feast on every inch of him, and yet, paradoxically, he also wanted to keep him. To cover him completely with his body and bath in his energy, to claim Loki as his own and mark his property in every conceivable way.

The tape played on, dragging out into the tedium of normal conversation and topics which did not interest him, and so he drifted uncomprehending along the steady flow of Loki's voice. A pleasing melody disconnected from the actual words he said.

Mmmm, Tony would have him. He would savor him and take him and make him moan for more. He just needed time. Needed to plan something before his instincts took over and he bungled it. 

Loki would not want to be his if he took him by force, he needed to insinuate himself somehow, introduce himself in a non-threatening way....

That was his plan, anyway, before the bell chimed over the door of the laundromat and that saccharin musk hit him like an anvil from the sky. 

Loki.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki meets his stalker in a laundromat and sparks fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some slang from earlier times is in this. When we say "fag" we don't mean it as an offensive term, but rather as a period accurate word for "cigarette."  
Vitae is the power vampires absorb from blood. We explain it in the story later, but I thought I should specify so it doesn't confuse you all.
> 
> Thank you for reading, we hope you enjoy our efforts!

Tony’s nostrils flared and his heart beat against his chest. Fuck. He'd known it was possible, but he hadn't thought Loki would _ really _ walk in at the same time he was there.

The Beast roared within him, and although he wouldn't be hungry for another day or so he had to fight his fangs from protruding. Eyes snapping open and head whipping around, he met the blinking, oblivious stare of his most recent victim.

The man seemed disturbed by the intensity of Tony's attention, his pulse accelerating and thudding temptingly under the bruise on his mottled neck. No, no, this was all wrong! He had intended to introduce himself. A harmless neighbor, perhaps a new tenant. Something innocuous. Now he’s given Loki reason to suspect.

Playing off the man’s attention, he straighten up and feigned familiarity.

"Oh, hey. You’re, uh, _ Loki, _ right?"

Loki took a step further inside, further away. He tipped his head and lowered his brows in unease.

"Sorry," Tony smiled, scratching his head in fake embarrassment. "That came out wrong! I meant, are you Loki Borison? I worked with Borison Legal a few years ago, and you look just like the photo he had on his wall."

* * *

The words had the opposite effect as what the man in the chair probably wanted from Loki, his green eyes narrowing further as he took note of each feature in the stranger’s face. 

He had thick brown hair clean-cut, a perfectly etched goatee, aviators sticking out the pocket of a designer bomber’s jacket, and tight acid-washed jeans that edged to the expensive shoes he wore. So many little inaccuracies that told Loki that such a man should not be in a dump like this to wash his clothes in beat up washers that threatened to rip apart even the most hardy denim if you didn’t use a laundry bag. He was older than Loki by several years at least, but still artfully rocked the younger fashion. 

Then there was the claim of familiarity, it was such a blatant lie that Loki almost walked right back out of the door. Odin was determined to have his children fall into the same fold as himself that he'd brought Thor and Loki to the office since they were young. They knew every face and name of each janitor, accountant, lawyer, assistant, and coffee monkey. 

This man Loki had never seen in those polished halls. The way he spoke the connection was too open ended, made it sound like it was from long before Loki’s two year absence from Odin’s domain. The most damning, the final nail in the coffin, was the fact that Odin let no one, not a single soul outside of his family into his main office. 

This man was bullshitting, not that badly, but to Loki who had been trained from childhood to slueth out lies, it stunk as bad as that dairy farm mother had taken them to in the hopes of inspiring some sort of love for nature in her city-boys. 

So, what was this man’s game? Perhaps he was a spy for Odin, paid to keep an eye on him and make sure he was doing nothing to tarnish the ‘family’ name? That didn’t seem right, Odin would have someone watching from afar. 

Loki was curious.Yes, he knew that the public knew of him because of his family, but most people wouldn’t recognize him off of the street when not wearing a business suit when he appeared behind Odin like a good little pseudo heir to the law firm. 

No, Loki was dressed in a charcoal grey sweater under a black leather jacket and skinny jeans of equally dark color tucked into knee high combat boots. The lobe of his right pierced with a single emerald stud backed in gold, to show his pride, but also a ‘fuck you’ to Odin’s strictness. He had no tattoos due to an irrationa—completely reasonable fear of needles. 

He was told he was intimidating to some people. Amora claimed he had resting bitch-face to the nine hundredth degree when he wasn’t wearing one of his many masks for the public. 

Oh Loki knew that people made mistakes when they were frazzled. Instead of pinning someone down with questions, silence could be an even sharper blade. Tactic decided on how to deal with this potential stalker, wouldn’t that be a story to tell Amora, Loki spoke. 

“I see.” That was it, all that he said, only turned his back, not all the way he was not a fool, and set about preparing for the war that was doing coin laundry. 

* * *

"Oh, uh, okay then," Tony said. He wanted to stand and make a show of being casual, but he was still stiff in his drawers and he couldn't move an inch without the whole world seeing it. He settled for small talk.

"Were you a lawyer too, then?"

* * *

'Were' past tense, Loki couldn't help the flinch that his body gave towards a future that now seemed so far out of reach. Gritting his teeth, he shoved the next pair of black silk boxers into the machine with more force than necessary.  
  
"Never was, I'm in my early twenties." Glancing up at the man whom had yet to take his eyes off of him, Loki added before the next painfully awkward question could be asked. 

"And, no, I'm not in school. You? How did you come to meet Mr. Borison?" He would not call that man 'father', he refused even when speaking to a stranger. That sense of guilt though, it drifted back up from the pit of his stomach. It never really left him. Whenever he had to think of Odin, the image of Frigga would come to mind as well.

* * *

_ Mr. Borison _. Interesting.

Not on good terms with dad then, a point in Tony's favor. 

Not to mention that a rift with one member of the family tended to cascade. This was a man who had few people to turn to, who may even hesitate to call law enforcement for fear of it getting back to his father. 

Tony’s mouth watered at the prospect and he nearly lost control again. It was so strong when he was this close, the roar of his Thirst practically drowning out all other sensations. He needed to leave before he gave in and ruined his chances.

Walking across the line to his own machine, he pulled moisture from the air to dry them although the cycle was not yet finished. Unless he wanted to frenzy in the middle of the city with security cameras watching he needed to leave. Or at least get outside where the autumn air would clear his head… and perhaps where he could find a dark alcove to watch from afar.

Hiding his arousal behind the bag, he started shoveling his clothes in. Grasping at straws, he recalled the details of the business card—corporate litigation, asset management, business valuation—and made a tactical guess.

"Well I'm a ways off of twenty, but I'm not exactly old either. My father's company was in a bit of trouble, so I needed some advice on how to handle an attempted corporate takeover. In the end we settled out of court, but I did have to meet a few lawyers just in case."

He hoped that was a good enough excuse, given that about half of it was true. Just...maybe not as recent as he'd made it sound. 

Stark Industries had really gotten into some trouble back in the 60's, and they had shopped around for lawyers. The only lie was that Tony himself had been running the business under an old alias, rather than the father “Tony” had tragically lost in a car accident.

Cinching his laundry bag closed, he leaned on the machine and tried to make his fangs stay in his gums where they belonged.

* * *

"I'm glad it worked out for your family."

Interesting, the man sidestepped part of his question about what he was currently up to now. Loki tilted his head in thought before wincing, a small little sound coming from his lips, as the action pulled on the still healing bruises on his throat. Amora was right with her description of him being practically mauled. 

The pain wasn't a bad feeling, a slight burn that hurt just enough to keep pressing at. Like a bruise that one kept touching because they were curious if it was still tender and how long they would have to share their story with onlookers. This time though, with the blank in his memory he had no tale to tell. It was fun to weave possibilities and scenes together into late night wonderings that sparked later discomfort in his bed.

He'd have to wait til it healed to meet with Thor, he didn't need his older brother to be protective and overbearing. It was a mortifying experience enough the last time Thor had seen marks of Loki exploits. 

Loki wasn't ashamed, but his ears were still ringing from the blond's shouting about being safe and other such rot. 

This stranger though, he was obviously gearing up to leave. Loki pursed his lips, he hated being left with more questions than answers. Yes, it would be safer for him to let the man—the liar and possible stalker—make his escape. But Loki was curious. He quickly started the machine for his own laundry before pulling out the carton from his back pocket. 

"You want to share a fag?"

* * *

Tony's body yearned at the suggestion, the Beast roaring in his chest. He needed to bide his time, but his fangs were now firmly in place and refusing to go back.

No wonder Loki smelled like a victim, apparently he made a habit of following unknown men into dark alleys to share cigarettes. Fuck, but he wanted him.

Fingers digging into the closed top of the laundry bag, he pretended to check his pockets for his things and answered with his back turned to hide his teeth.

"You know, I'm supposed to be quitting but right now I could really use one," he said as lightly as he could manage. Turning and picking up the bag, he gave a boyish closed lipped grin. 

"Lead the way."

* * *

"Aren't we all?" Loki mused before leading the way out of the laundromat, they would just be around the side of the building and the string of abhorrent bells hanging from the door would tell them if anyone entered. He believed that it was safe enough to leave his things to the washing. 

This late into the evening it was unlikely that anyone would be coming anyway, it was one of the reasons that Loki was here. While he had no problem admitting he was a gossip hound, small talk with smelly strangers and leery stares were not his cup of tea. 

Then again this stranger certainly was leery, but he didn't stink of days' old sweat from the homeless, cat piss from old people, and other nauseous smells that were common among the people that dragged themselves to do coin laundry when their buildings were too cheap to have their own machines for their tenants. 

They hooked around the building, just into the entrance of the alley. Here they would hopefully be left alone, no one complaining about the smoke drifting into the sidewalk and also out of sight of any drunks that might have an ax to grind with liquid courage in their veins.

Slipping a hand into the pocket of his leather jacket, Loki pulled out the right glove that sat inside of it. Catching the edge of it between his teeth to keep it steady, he slid his fingers into the well worn slots in the thin leather. He hated the smell of tobacco, didn't want the stains upon his nails and skin when he sucked the hit of nicotine in. 

He tapped the white carton with rich cobalt blue sides against his palm, one of the long sticks bucking forth so he could pluck it out. Perching the fag between his teeth, he brought the silver lighter from his back pocket out next. A gift from Odin when he had graduated from high school, Thor had a similar one. 

It had the family crest upon it, something from Odin's ancestors in Norway. Oh he had been so tempted to throw it away or even pawn it for extra pocket money, but in the end Loki never could make himself go through with it. 

_ Penniless sentiments. _

Grinding the lighter to bring the flame to life, Loki puffed on the cigarette to build a steady burn. Then he took a deep drag, eyes closing as he felt his cheeks hollow to pull more of the smoke in, felt it rush down his throat and into his lungs. 

Heat, ash, and regret is what it tasted like, but Loki was addicted. 

Opening his eyes once more he tilted his head, smirk upon his lips as he asked while offering another cig to the now, Loki noticed from their closeness, shorter man. 

"You know, I don't believe I ever caught your name. Seems rather rude when you know so much about me." 

* * *

The night air hit him with all the usual sights and smells of the city, and it did help him to reign in the urges. Which was good. Very good. He had to remind himself why it was good three times as he followed the lanky man around the corner and got another eyeful of that gorgeous ass in tight jeans. 

One time was a meal, twice was a mistake, but a mutual arrangement could keep a young vamp like him fat and happy for years. Even just considering it gave him chills. Feeding from the same mark generally wasn't worth the risk of blood bonding, but he could still taste the faint trace of Loki on his teeth and he couldn't deny what he wanted.

It was risky, tying oneself to a mortal like that. He'd never done it himself, but he'd seen the result. A brother of his sire who'd lost the taste for anyone but his thrall, and the poor mortal who'd fallen into the depths of fanatical love and adoration. It was sick, and dangerous too.

Even to a killer like him, the idea was repellent. An addictive cycle which left the mortal perpetually weak and starved the vampire into hollow, withering husk.

In the time it took Loki to light the cigarette he hesitated, wary of the path he was walking and yet drawn down it all the same. The press of the pale man's lips to the fag and the look of relief that spread over his face seemed to pull him like a magnet.

Smoke poured out of Loki’s mouth like a spirit from a corpse, and his eyes flicked closed for just a moment, his lashes dark and crisp over his pale cheeks. An expression just adjacent to arousal that made Tony want to see the real thing.

_ Normal, act normal _, he told himself, swallowing and gritting his teeth.

"Stark," he stumbled, and then realized he'd done it wrong. Humans used their first names these days, stupid stupid. "Tony Stark, I mean. Pleased to meet you."

He held out his hand for the cigarette and his veins fucking pulsed. They could touch, if he wasn't careful. Their fingers might brush. He didn't know what he'd do, but the primal part of him wanted to find out. Wanted to surge and bite and take.

But he wouldn't. He couldn't. He wanted to do this right.

* * *

"Bond. James Bond." Loki couldn't help but tease, before frowning at the other's lost expression. "Really, you don't know Bond? The newest film of it was just released last weekend." The first Bond movie was released in the sixties, was the other that sheltered that he hadn't seen any of the rapidly growing franchise? 

Amora nearly ruined her panties when she pulled the flyer for the movie from the stacks of bills and letters in their mail. He had lost it himself for a different reason when he saw the name "Octopussy". The actor was also attractive. In a cool dark theater, what might this man, Stark, Tony Stark, do in his company? 

His knuckles brushed the other's as he passed the lit cigarette, "I wonder if you have any refined taste."

He was playing with fire, but he did have a pocketknife in the waist of his pants. It was more on the insistence from Amora than Thor. The woman knew far more about the trouble that Loki got himself regularly into when he was bored and off the restrictive leash he had when growing up. Loki liked to prod, see where cracks in people formed, and tested limits for the hell of it. It seemed that Tony would be fun to play with. 

Unfortunately, the raven was unaware how literal the term of cat and mouse game really was between them.

* * *

Tony's lip twitched at the sound of Loki's voice, a smooth teasing lilt that brought his mind to focus. So close, better than a recording by a mile. 

Swallowing around a tight throat, he held out his stick for Loki's lighter, cold sweat running down his back. His once-dead heart thudded dully in his chest, a remnant of his mortal life that just then felt very authentic.

In short he felt alive, as though all those years had been a dream from which he was now waking. Words flew through his head, but Loki offered the flickering flame of the lighter.

Their hands brushed and that was it. Surging forward, he pressed Loki into the brick wall of the alley with an arm across his chest. The cigarette fell, along with the lighter, to the muddy ground as he caught Loki's wrist and forced it over his head. 

The man was strong, but he was nothing compared to a vampire's will. A breathless sound escaped him as Tony set his legs on either side of Loki and bent close to scent his hair and graze his teeth down his corded neck. Incredible. 

Sucking at the junction of neck and shoulder he sensed the rushing vitae just below the surface and drug his fangs over it, seeking the correct spot to plunge. Loki struggled under him and the predator within him growled in satisfaction. 

Try as they might to look civilized, this was the true nature of his kind. They lived for the sinking of their fangs into yielding flesh, and he'd stopped fussing over the right and wrong of it.

"It's not about my taste," he growled, hot breath flowing from his mouth as he let his teeth break skin. "It's about yours."

* * *

The world swam for a moment as Loki's mind desperately tried to keep up with so many sensations. The pain of his head smacking against the wall, his wrist pinched in a tight grip and held high above his head in a way that made the muscles in his arm burn. The cool, unyielding weight that kept him from bucking the shorter man off. As his own cigarette fell from his mouth in shock and the clink of the lighter falling, Loki could feel teeth and lips over his throat.

Just like that, it felt like Loki's stomach had dropped right through him, rolled across the disgusting alley, and took the next flight to "Getting the Fuck Out" as Amora would say. Something primal, instinctual screamed at him that he could very well be about to die. That this wasn't about swift sexual gratification.

The words confused him, as did the sudden assault, Loki had thought that he had read the stranger's body language correctly and that it would take far more prompting before Tony would act with aggression. Then, teeth, they were teeth slicing into his neck.

A choked sound escaping his mouth as he felt blood washing out of him and something else was sliding inside rubbed off of those strange teeth into his flesh and bloodstream.

It felt like little pins and needles were being poked all across his skin, the sensation making him collapse further back into the bricks. It was horrifying, the feeling that he could not get his body to listen to him. Almost like everything he tried to do was suddenly set to roll in slow motion, like frames stuttering on a wonky film wheel. 

Still Loki fought against the clouding in his head, tried to get free from the monster feeding from him. His other arm had been sandwiched between their chests, but in Loki's struggles and Tony continually having to adjust just the slightest bit to keep his prey in prime blood sucking position the appendage slipped to Loki's side.

That was just what Loki needed, though he kept his hand moving slow, hoping not to be caught as he worked the thick metal clip off the waist of his jeans. It was a switchblade, which Loki was so grateful for, given that he only had one hand available.

Keeping the heavy blade in his hand, Loki drove the sharp metal into the side of the... 

Tony jerked away when he stuck him and Loki gaped as he saw bright red eyes replacing warm brown ones. 

Vampire. What the hel? Run now, think later, Loki decided, pushing himself from the wall and trying to run, get back to the main street and get the attention of the unlikely passerby. Groaning as he stumbled about like a drunk from... whatever was flowing through his system. 

* * *

The taste wasn't like before, it was _ better _. Heavy with fear and rich with vitea. Disoriented by the cut of the knife, he let go and felt his power swell. It was like putting premium fuel in an economy car, the rush of energy so much stronger than usual.

Then it was his turn to be afraid, because he could not possibly overlook the implications of that high. Something was different about Loki, about his blood. Despite already being full he wasn’t satisfied. He wanted every drop for himself, wanted to take the gorgeous man into his house and lock him away.

With a grunt he ripped the knife from between his ribs and threw it to the ground, accessing the blood in his stores and consuming it to fuel his spectral form. One step, then another, and then his body dissolved into mist, taking flight. 

Like steam billowing from manhole covers or the hazy fog of autumn, he swept soundlessly along the alleys and byways. Spreading thinner and thinner as the trail went cold, he canvassed the area until he found his prey, running at full speed to an unknown destination.

In his right mind he would have simply observed and planned his next move, but the blood frenzy sang in his ears and blocked out everything but the hunt. It whispered to him of the value of his prize, of the heady power in his veins and the maddening scent that had invaded his every thought. 

Would others scent him? Were Tony's kindred all so affected, or just him? Possessive fury overtook him, and he knew there was nothing else to do. 

No one else would be permitted to touch Loki, he would not allow it. He had drank from him twice, Loki was his now, and he would find him.

* * *

Loki had scrambled haphazardly through the streets and alleyways, feet never landing quite where he wanted them to as he didn't run home. His fogged brain felt like he had drank the entirety of Odin's liquor cabinet, and he probably wouldn't have been able to find his way anyway. Leading the beast, _ Stark _, if that was his real name, back to his home and possibly to Amora wasn't an option either. 

The young man believed that the best option he had would be to reach some densely populated spot and hope that the vampire wouldn't dare risk making a scene for a _ juice box _. Hot blood was still leaking from the bite on his neck, he could feel it soaking into his shirt and sticking the fabric to his skin. 

There was another discomfort, a chafing one as his erection strained in his jeans. Wasn't that just fucked up? Oh Loki knew that he could be a masochist, liked to dabble in a little fear and pain with his bedroom exploits, but this was just ridiculous. 

There had to be something in the vampire's bite. There must be. At least that was what Loki desperately told himself, not wanting to think that he could possibly be that unhinged.

He cursed himself for choosing to do laundry so late at night for the eighth time before he finally saw the neon lights of a convenience store. Loki had passed a few other people in his flight, but they were either drunks or shied visibly away from him. 

Normally, Loki would do the same, he must look a slight, covered in sweat and blood, skin paler than a ghost, eyes blown wide with fear, and probably was assumed to be someone on drugs in the middle of a bad trip. There were payphones outside of the Seven Eleven, but he knew his fingers were too jittery for the buttons. 

No, his goal would be to get inside of the store and get the clerk to call someone... anyone. Police? Ambulance? Thor? Loki didn't care as long as he could put distance between himself and ending up in a coffin as a shriveled up raisin of a person. 

Before Loki could step into the light that the large glass windows provided however, the path was cut off. Three men, big men stopping him from reaching the sweet promise of sanctuary. From the way they stood they weren't there to help Loki.

It was made all the more obvious were he caught sight of their eyes, murky red just barely seen in the dim light of streetlamps a handful of feet away. Their eyes were a far cry from the bright ruby, hel almost hot rod red, that Tony's had been.

The one to the right spoke first, a breathy hiss with his eyes closed as he took a slow audible sniff of the air, "What’s that _smell_?!"

Loki forced himself not to flinch as he kept his right hand held tight over the left side of his neck, he could still feel the warm life giving liquid welling underneath his fingers trying to seep free. How deep had he been bitten, why hadn't it closed? He spoke, glad that his tone was steady despite his terror, "Good evening, gentlemen." 

He doubted that he could get out of this the way that he usually did, with silver words and charm. These were predators, not men. It was still worth a shot as he tried to side step around them. Should he try to scream and get the attention of the cashier in the store? When working a minimum paying job, they might not help another with their problem unless it became theirs as well. Which in case meant Loki getting inside of the building.

Another stepped into Loki's way, a lot rumble coming from his chest, sharp fangs revealed at he spoke, "Where do ya think you're goin', sweet thing?" 

Loki cursed himself again for only carrying the one knife. If he got out of this he'd never leave home without five strapped to him somehow. "Just to the shop, late night cravings, you know?"

The vampires snickered at that and Loki winced as he realized he should have chosen his words just a little more carefully. To be fair, he wasn't used to being thought of as a menu item. There was also the potential blood lost he was suffering from. 

"Oh, we know." 

"Looks like someone already took a nibble of 'im." The one in the middle mused, grin sharp, "I don't think I'd mind sloppy seconds if this is what's on offer." 

"They didn't even secure their catch," Another complained, before gleefully adding, "Finders keepers?" 

Loki's breath caught as one of the men seemed to shutter and then reappear right in front of him. Hands catching the front of his jacket and shirt, nose almost pressed against the hand covering the wound. Moaning at whatever he smelled, tongue sliding over blood covered fingers before jerking back with a snarl, "Stark."

* * *

Three thugs shrouded in denim and leather surrounded Loki in the parking, big men with sour dispositions. Tony knew them on sight. Hammer's children.

Obadiah's lap dogs, more like. Enjoying the fruits of their stolen territory. One wrong move and he could start a turf war with the most powerful alliance in vampire society. He would have to be cautious.

_ "Justine," _ Tony answered, making sure to use his real name rather than the modern variant the smarmy bastard preferred. "Fancy seeing you out here, hunting with the riff raff. Did you run out of barely legal bimbos on daddy's private plot?"

His rival’s blood brothers snarled, one of them stocky with an eternally crooked nose and the other lean and scraggly around the chin. Marston and Vern. Hammer held up a hand to stall the violence, the only one of them with two brain cells to rub together.

"I hunt wherever I like, and _ whoever. _ You clearly had your chance and bungled it, outcast. Piss off."

That made Tony's blood boil, the frenzy sharpening his nails and drawing his fangs further down. In a firm stance he stepped around Loki's breathless form and stood between them, hissing back. The words dripped out of his mouth on pure instinct, a surprise as much to him as everyone else.

"You dare impose on a fellow Kindred’s thrall?" he growled.

A significant lie, but an effective one. It was illegal for any vamp to mess with a fellow’s property, be that living or inanimate. The brothers stiffened.

Nothing cowed a vampire like politics, or at least any vampire with an inkling of sense. The Nobilis would be happy to strip Hammer of his position just as they’d done to Tony.

Justine plastered on a fake grin.

"Oh, he's claimed then? Oh drat, I thought you just liked your meals free range," he taunted. “Excuse my poor manners.”

His tone made Tony's eyebrow twitch, but with Loki safely at his back he found the mind numbing rush of his hunger less oppressive.

"Don't play dumb," he spat, nostrils flared and hair undoubtedly wild from his harried flight. "He's mine, understand. _ Mine. _ And I'll tear anyone that so much as sniffs him limb from limb."

Not waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and met Loki's eyes, his gut churning in a confusing mess of sensations. Hunger, adrenaline, frustration. A rapidly escalating fear that he'd botched this beyond repair. But what he saw sent a hot rush right through him. 

Tempered though it was by fear and panic, the look was unmistakable. Slack jawed, lips puffy from nervous chewing and pupils blown nearly black. Arousal. Loki had been entranced by Tony's bite.

His dick twitched in his jeans, and he struggled to set the sensation aside. It was wrong, disgusting even, to bed a bite. That didn’t stop him thinking about it though, not with a gorgeous, sharp-eyed human gazing at him with a tent in his pants. It was all he could do not to devour the man right there. 

Sweeping him in his arms, he melted them both into the shadows and tugged him deeper into the dark. All around, he could feel the city buzzing with life and danger, but he had eyes and lips only for his victim, leaning him none too gently against an anonymous brick wall and languishing long, careful licks to his neck.

He'd left him bleeding too long. His reactions were slow and his shirt was ruined. The laundry was long forgotten. Yes, he'd definitely fucked this up magnificently.

Sucking the last of the life force from his closing wound, Tony heard as well as felt Loki's pulse accelerate and his weak noises change from fear to desperate moaning. He couldn't know for sure how much his bite had influenced him and how much was Loki's own desire, but dormant impulses were awakening and he found he couldn't stop.

In the forty years since his Embrace he'd never wanted someone like this. Sex seemed unimportant compared to the constant threat of starvation, extermination, and sunlight. In a life after death, all that mattered was subsistence and secrecy, and few vamps retained interest in such things as mortal food and sex.

But now there was no mistaking what he wanted, and the burning need to sate a different hunger was novel and irresistible. Trailing his hand up the undamaged side of Loki's neck, he slid his fingers into his hair and sought out his eyes in the near pitch black. Lining up their hips he rubbed in a slow rhythm, sighing in relief at the steady sparks of pleasure and Loki's sharp intake of breath.

"Come home with me," he whispered, no longer certain whether he was compelling Loki or simply begging like an idiot. "Let me take you somewhere safe."

* * *

Loki was dizzy and he was getting really sick and tired of brick walls as he found himself being pressed up against one for the second time that night. He had pleaded to be let go in breathy gasps as he felt cool lips and tongue on his throat once more. 

He made promise after promise not to reveal what had happened that night to anyone. That vampires were real, there were a number of them in the city, and that he was apparently a highly prized snack for one reason or another. Loki was lying, he was, but it didn't seem to matter much as Stark seemed set on ignoring him. 

Well not exactly ignoring, his throat was still being lavished and could feel the press of an impressive bulge against his own. It was maddening, whatever was in Loki's bloodstream from the vampire's bite and saliva was driving him slowly mad, like he would burst at any given moment. Yet, kept just out of reach. Held on the precipice of painful pleasure, could anyone blame him from changing his tune? His hips bucked back, but this time not in an attempt to get away. 

He blinked slowly as the words registered. Go with him? It was spoken like a request, but Loki knew that it wasn't. Stark had all the power here, had moved them across the city with apparently little care or strain. Go with him and Loki was so certain that he was never be released. He was at the point of not caring as his dick ached in the too tight jeans. The promise of safety made Loki snort out a short laugh, "Will you walk into my parlor said a spider to a fly."

* * *

Tony didn't know what the hell Loki was talking about, but people said all kinds of strange things with his venom scrambling their thoughts. It answered the question either way, Loki’s body rocking into his and making his desires clear. He wasn’t leaving him on the street like this.

Even so neither of them were exactly eager to separate. Despite the mantra in his head telling him to stop, he found his hand trailing down over the slight dips of a collar bone and the firm smoothness of trim muscles. 

Lifting up the hem of Loki's t-shirt he felt the scruff of well groomed hair on his knuckles as he worked open the button on the mortal's tight pants.

"Or I could have you right here," he groaned. Cupping Loki's length, he drew his fingers up and back down, pressing the heel of his palm into the sensitive head and tipped his neck to tug and nibble on the lobe of his ear. He'd be the first to admit that he'd been a bit loose when he was alive, all the old motions coming back with surprising ease. "Fuck, you smell so good."

* * *

Loki would have protested that declaration, knowing he certainly did not smell good from his sprinting for his life, the tang of sweat underneath his cologne and the metallic scent of blood. But perhaps that was ambrosia to a vampire, hard prey that was finally won and ready to be feasted upon. Instead all that came from Loki’s lips was a low moan as his dick _ pulsed _ in the cool grip. 

“Fuck,” the word came out as breathless keen as his hips still cantered into Stark’s hand despite his exhausted state. Loki was tired of fighting an impossible enemy, if he was going to die after the creature had his fun, there was certainly nothing he could do about it. 

Instead he melted back against the disgusting wall, shivering as he felt those fangs teasing his ear, playing with the piercing there with his tongue and teeth. The thrill of danger he could feel in his balls. 

He’d fucked and been fucked in worse places, but it still wasn’t exactly ideal. At least Stark was attractive as well, not a Nosferatu-looking misshapen ghoul. 

Loki would forever blame the lost of blood for his bad decision making, though he’d made plenty in completely different circumstances. That was neither here nor there, and it might never be again, but he still angled his head to catch Stark’s lips with his own.

* * *

Warm lips captured his and caught him by surprise. He paused, confused, until Loki moaned and bucked sharply into his hand. Fresh blood rushed in his ears and dusty memories of his mortal life told him that he'd better return it before things got awkward.

Doubling down on his stroking, he tried to remember the proper motions of kissing. There was a rhythm to it, he recalled. Like waves on on beach. Press in, caress, change the angle, hold them tight. Push a bit further to make them feel wholly embraced, possessed...and then withdraw. Go again. 

It was strangely entrancing and he found he wanted more. More than just taking Loki's blood and his body and his essence, he wanted to _ savor _ it. To roll it around on his tongue and memorize the subtle harmonies of his flavor.

Hurrying his tempo, he growled into the man's ear and listened to the sharp gasping of his accelerating breath. Loki liked that, didn’t he? The growling and aggression. Tony chuckled darkly and pressed harder, jerking his dick faster and faster, right up to the edge, moments away from release...and then he stopped. 

Loki let out a noise like a dying animal, and Tony’s blood sang. Ripping his own zipper down, he decided to give the man what he clearly wanted and freed himself from his under clothes. Gripping them both in his fist, he tried not to come from the sheer relief of contact. 

Humans were so warm, so _ alive _, and he hadn't done this with anyone in such a long time. Sweat and precome smoothed the way as he slid his dick through the tight channel, dragging their sweet spots together and finding himself breathless as well.

Losing himself again to the scent and the heat, he rocked their lengths in a sinful slide, squeezed them as one in a slow, knee-weakening pull that turned into another and another. Jerking wildly, his hand more of a blur, he brought them to the brink. This time he didn't feel like playing with his food.

"Come on, come on," he panted, fucking his own fist and quivering when Loki's body twitched, his back arching as he found his release. Tony's own orgasm hit him like a truck. His come painted those damned leather pants a bit less black and he growled.

The last few strokes were Nirvana, his head light and vision blurry. A sharp tinge of sex added itself to Loki's already maddening scent and he shot hard, his body continuing to fuck even when it was clearly over and done. Trying to elongate the moment, to squeeze out one more moment of that overwhelming pleasure.

Loki sagged in his arms, but the whispers of frenzy still beat in the back of his mind. Helpless to his own urges, he found he couldn't stop, didn't want to stop. He wanted to take Loki and own every part of him.

Somewhere in the act his free arm had wound around Loki's back, and now he was dragging his nails down on a strange impulse to mark it.

"Come," he whispered. "Give yourself to me."

* * *

If Loki had had the energy to protest the declaration, he _ probably _ would have. It was no longer a sure thing as his mind was muddled with pleasure, almost painful now as Stark continued to stroke his spent, overstimulated cock. 

Perhaps he could have made the effort to at least shake his head. With the ache on both sides of his neck, the mere idea was cringe inducing. The blame for that too was Stark. Loki knew this, knew for the evidence of what he now could label as "vampire feeding" when he awoke exhausted and bruised several days ago. The familiarity, the desperation Stark showed. The vampire had planned this, had been watching and following him. 

Loki hadn't been going crazy, he really had been stalked.

The certainty that Stark swore his claim, both to the other vampires and now to Loki’s own back. A cool, soft breeze against Loki's face had him shuddering from head to weak knees to curling toes. Wires crossing that certainly shouldn't if Loki wanted his freedom and life. 

In the end all that escaped the dark haired young man was a breathy whimper before he finally lost himself to the exhaustion and blood loss. Collapsing completely into the shorter man as darkness claimed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? If you have the time or inclination we'd love to hear from you. A quick "loved it!", keyboard smashes, emojis, long rambling squees, questions or theories, it doesn't matter. We accept them all. <3


	3. Staggered Blitz

Waking up was always something that Loki did on autopilot, drilled into him from a young age as Odin ran an almost militaristic household. Habits did not easily disappear even after the bitter discovery of his adoption and his flight from being under the old bastard's thumb. 

The morning ritual was something that he followed even after late night binges and/or one-night stands. From the ache of his body, Loki assumed that it was an unpleasant mixture of the two. 

Discovering himself in an unfamiliar bed in a severe state of undress, wasn't uncommon for Loki as of late. While he wouldn’t define himself as easy or loose, Loki enjoyed sex and carnal delights as much as anyone else. When he was in a particular rut of frustration and boredom, even more so. 

Still he usually awoke far earlier than his partner and took his leave before they started to stir. 

So, finding himself alone was a bit more surprising, but he shrugged it off. He only wondered briefly just what kind of man he had landed as he felt the silky soft sheets and heavily embroidered feather-down duvet. The furniture all looked out of date, but expensive and not gagging on a spoon worthy ugly. Maybe it was a DINK. 

Well, it was no matter. Loki did not jet out of a short-time lover’s abode like some might, no, he was in the habit of taking his sweet time making use of the person’s facilities if they were clean enough.

One door in the room was cracked open enough for Loki to see that it was a bathroom. He stumbled into it, making a far more haphazard beeline into the shower. 

As he struggled to turn the old fashioned brass knobs of the shower, he felt a dull pulsing pain the back of his head. Was he still drunk? Loki wasn’t in the habit of drinking himself to the point of blacking out, no matter how strong his desire to get pissed. 

The pipes gurgled briefly before a constant stream of hot water poured over his head, a relief. That was until Loki glanced down at his feet and saw that the water swirling down the drain was pale red in color after it ran over his body.

It jolted Loki out of his mindless motions to get clean. 

Blood, lots of it, the metallic smell he barely noticed before now being registered by his nose. 

He almost brained himself on the tile floor in his haste to get out of the shower, stumbling in front of the mirror and gazing in shock at the mess of purples, blacks, greens, and reds that covered almost the entirety of his neck. More bruises were splotched across his arms and shoulders, a closer look revealed them to be hand shaped.

The memories came rushing back: the stranger at the laundromat, vampires, handjobs in an alley, _ Tony Stark _. 

Ignoring the chill of his drenched self, the shower left running, Loki hurried out of the bathroom. Tried to think rationally even as panic gripped him. He turned his hope to the two other doors in the room. 

One he discovered was a closet. The only thing inside of it was Loki's own leather jacket hung unassuming on a single hanger.

The second door was locked. Loki reasoned then that it was his only way out of here since there were no windows in the room, a realization that made him feel quite claustrophobic. 

Perhaps those legends about sunlight being harmful to vampires was true, too bad that Loki was in the practice of wearing a cross of a god he didn’t believe in. 

Loki swallowed, admonishing himself to remain calm, distract from the horror of his situation. Being the captive of a creature that shouldn't exist and wanted to feast on human blood. _ Loki's blood _. 

A search of the dresser found him a pair of aged but silky pajamas, the only other clothes in the room. The pants were too short, the top too baggy, both burgundy and cream in color and covered in horrid vertical stripes. They had to do, it was better than prancing about naked. 

Which was what Loki did, pacing the large room, as there seemed there was nothing else he _ could _ do. He was exhausted, knew he had to be suffering from blood loss. But in the end, he was couldn't stand being stagnant, he had enough of that in his daily life, thank you very much. 

He felt like a caged animal, perhaps this is what livestock would feel like if they were sentient to their station in life and the food chain. Knowing that they would end up on the dinner plate eventually.

Maybe not a plate, maybe a _wine glass_, Loki felt that deserved something more classy... Certainly, he must be slightly delirious. Thor and his friends always wondered quite vocally about whether or not Loki was sane with some of the things he got into, even in his youth. 

There was only so much stress the mind could take. It shouldn't be of any surprise that he panicked, trying the door again and again, pulling, pushing, anything that he hoped wouldn't cause too much noise. He did not know how close the vampire might be or if he was alone. 

Gritting his teeth, Loki jerked the brass ribbed knob again with a growl. One foot braced against the wall beside the door for leverage, both hands on the knob as he turned it. Pulling with all of his might, "Come on, just _ open, you major- _." 

Then... it did. Leading Loki to fall back on his ass as the door swung inward and the frame opened up into a dark empty hall.

Scrambling less than gracefully back to his feet, Loki cautiously stuck his head out.

There was no beast bearing down on him, no red eyes glaring at him from the shadows. Nothing at all. Taking a breath he edged out, the hall was long sparsely decorated with a few picture frames, but it was too dark to see the contents. Not that Loki was here to judge Stark's tastes in art or photography. Loki wished to not be here at all. 

He moved on, not noticing the fact that there was no locking mechanism on the door he had just left. 

The hall was hardwood, which made a slapping, sticky sound no matter how Loki moved his bare feet. He crept on, finding a living room connected to a kitchen. There were windows covered with shutters that did not give under Loki’s attempts to open them. One escape route blocked.

Taking a gamble he went into the kitchen and found a knife block sitting innocently on a counter. 

Well, Loki remembered his promise he had made the night before, with the rest of the insane Halloween inspired fever-dream like events. Or, like, he supposed could have tumbled into some teenage girl's vampire fantasy novel. He took not one, but two knives from the block before making his way through the living room to a door that he hoped would lead to a front door and moreover a way out of here. 

His heart stuttered in despair when he noticed the door was covered in different locks of various styles. 

_ Fuck. _

"You know, I've heard keys open doors better than knives," Tony yawned.

Being awake after dawn broke with his schedule, but when one had a mortal crawling around their sanctum it didn't do to ignore them. Who knew what Loki might get into if left to his own devices... or out of. A cracked window could be fatal to his kind.

Fortunately, his house guest hadn't made it out of his room before Tony could wrestle himself out of torpor, so no harm no foul.

Even so, it was annoying. Frenzy always left him lethargic, and the addition of a meal and good fuck made him want to crawl into bed and doze for a week. Sadly, Loki had other plans.

"Well, if you be so kind as to provide me with a key, then we won't have to test that theory." Loki answered, light and relaxed. 

Refusing to whirl around to face the voice behind him, even though every fiber Loki’s very being was screaming at him that showing his back to a predator was not only dangerous but incredibly moronic. Perhaps even suicidal, not that Loki thought that Stark would off him after he went to all the... trouble to keep his juice box.

His hold on the knives tightened, knuckles white as he finally did look over his shoulder.

Stark had circles under his eyes, which seemed rather ironic. A sleep deprived vampire. While Loki hadn't stumbled upon any clocks in his minimal exploration, his biological clock told Loki it was morning. Maybe even late into it. 

He wished that Stark had decided to devote himself to his beauty sleep, not that he needed it, instead of finding Loki in the middle of his escape attempt.

Waving a hand casually towards the door, Loki decided to play off the situation. Hoping what so many employees at Borison Legal were so fond of saying was true. That Loki was silver tongued. "I'm not quite versed in conversations following a one night stand. So if you would save us both the embarrassment. That would be excellent."

"One night stand?" Tony's eyes flicked down to the knife. "If I didn't want seconds I'd have sucked you dry."

That made Loki tense, although he tried to hide it. He wasn't a bad deceiver, but any vamp Tony's age could sense a heart rate from fifty paces.

Empathy normally wasn't something he felt for prey, and yet the obvious fear had him recoiling. 

For the first time since he was newly turned he felt at odds with his instincts. 

On one hand, he wanted Loki's blood. Wanted it in his house and in his veins, ready for the taking and eagerly given—but there were simpler ways of achieving that. Enchantments, arrangements, money. Hell, at certain clubs in this city one could find dozens of mortals eager to be bled and bludgeoned. 

But here was a perfect opportunity to do just that, and Tony found himself hesitating. They shared a connection now, both of them circulating the same blood. It would be as easy as making eye contact to have the man enthralled, to instruct him with supernatural force to go about his life as usual and return in three nights with his vitality restored for another feeding.

Instead, as he worked his consciousness into Loki's mind and pried open the doors where free will resided, he did not issue any orders. Instead, he simply felt his apprehension and... shame? He hadn't ever thought his victims might be ashamed. 

Why? Because they could not fend off something as unnaturally powerful as him? Because they could not resist the pull of his kind's suggestive magicks? How irrational. Before the words even registered, Tony found himself speaking them.

"Besides, you're unwell. You need food. Won't you at least stay for breakfast?"

"You're telling me that you know how to cook?" Loki couldn't help it, a surprised laugh left his lips at the absolute absurdity of the situation. A vampire that knew how to prepare human food? Loki didn't know much about these predators, did not know which legends were true or bull. 

Obviously Stark was not about to let him go anytime soon. The words were spoken like a request, but there wasn't any option to actually refuse. Did Loki even want to? His stomach growled loudly as if on cue, more often than not, Loki's eating habits were abysmal. He stayed late in the bookshop reorganizing the Law section and forgot to eat dinner before going to the laundromat.

Hoping his cheeks hadn't pinked, Loki wondered if he had enough blood in him left to blush, he walked back to towards the kitchen with his head held high. "Very well, it seems poisoning me isn't in your best interest at least." 

Noting Stark holding an open hand towards him, brown eyes glancing pointedly at the knives still clutched in his hands. Loki only sniffed, as he sat on one of the tall stools before the kitchen island, "Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather keep them." 

From what he saw last night, Loki doubted he could kill the vampire with a simple blade. But a stab might be as useful as a spray bottle against a cat, better than nothing.

"Don't get excited," Tony quipped. "Ability does not equal proficiency."

Giving Loki a warning look, he let him keep the knives only to avoid further confrontation. Pointedly turning his back, he opened the refrigerator and belatedly regretted putting all the blood bags in door rack.

"But yeah I can cook. I used to be a human, you know."

To his relief, it seemed Rhodey had stocked the fridge recently. Nothing smelled rotten, and there was a fair amount of it. One more reason it paid to have friends that weren't food.

Downside, it was all Rhodey food. So... meat, meat, and more meat. When no single dish jumped out at him, he decided to just cook it all. Tony honestly had no idea what constitutes a good meal.

Arranging the meat in a pan, he powered on the burner and sprinkled whichever spices had the snappiest names on top. 

Then, on a whim, he started reading labels and found that some kind soul had actually noted all the vitamins and minerals contained in the food. Genius. 

Selecting the ones which claimed to be high in iron, he set about getting the rest ready until he had a large, if unorthodox, spread on the counter.

Chicken cutlets, steak, sliced white bread. Squash, spinach, kale. A box of breakfast cereal, and a big cube of something called "tofu" that he wasn't sure was meant to be cooked and so Tony'd just slapped it on a plate and drizzled ketchup on it because everything was better with ketchup.

Placing his hands on his hips, he nodded as a means of telling Loki to get on with it, only to realize he'd forgotten utensils. Dragging the drawer open, all he found was a single white spork in a plastic wrapper. A sideways glance confirmed that Rhodey had left the dishes dirty in the washer. Damn.

Too late to change anything, he ripped open the package with a hidden grimace and set the shameful instrument next to Loki's hand, figuring he at least had all the knives he needed.

"Er...." Tony scratched the back of his head, knowing he wasn't doing his reputation any favors, and shrugged. "Ta da?"

Loki regarded him with a sardonic glare.

The sight of the bags filled with _ suspicious _ liquid had Loki losing his appetite, furthered by the fact too many scents that didn't mix well together that were soon assaulting his nose. The temptation to chuck a knife into the vampire's back while he focused on his... creations was strong. But he had held himself back, for now. 

The spread was certainly something. Like _ something _ from a horror movie. 

Using the knife in his right hand Loki stabbed one of the large pieces of chicken, metal clinking against porcelain loudly. Angling the knife to rip it in half he revealed the pale, very pink, inside. 

"How long ago has been since you were again?" Loki's brow furrowed as he tacked on, "Maybe you really do want to poison me instead of fattening me up..." 

"What year is it, again? Joking, joking, sweetheart." Tony waved his hand. "Let's just say that I got to test drive the Model T and leave it at that."

Hoping he hadn't given himself away by talking about cars, he snapped the ketchup bottle closed and returned the various ingredients to where they belonged. It wouldn't be much of a stretch for Loki to recognise him, but he'd had a pretty different look when he'd been Howard.

"Ford was a hack, by the way. Don't believe everything you read."

Thor loved cars, Loki never gave them much thought, only as a means for getting from point A to point B. Had absentmindedly nodded along while his brother gushed about the new flashy muscle cars that came out every year. Model T, wasn’t that one of the very first cars mass produced? 

Loki felt his jaw dropping, "You're over a hundred years old." 

"Well you don't have to say it like_ that," _ Tony cringed. "I'm a baby by Kindred standards. My sire—the one who turned me—he was six hundred. And I heard one of his brothers was nearly a thousand when the CIA got him.”

He noticed Loki hadn't touched his food, other than mutilating the chicken. Tipping his chin at the plate, he crossed his arms and sighed.

"That bad, huh?"

"Something tells me you were never a man to cook his own food even when you were alive." Loki answered with a sniff as he shoved the chicken plate away from him. The other dishes with meat got a similar treatment. He picked up the box of cereal with a critical expression, looking for the expiration date before opening it and the bag inside. 

The sugary, overly sweet smell thankfully overwhelmed the rest and Loki quickly shoved a handful into his mouth. It was better than nothing as his stomach reminded him that it was still painfully empty.

He rolled Stark's words over in his head, deciding that there was only so much insanity he could take, "The CIA hunts vampires? Please, I'm not that gullible. Next you're going to have me believe that aliens are real." 

"Huh?" Tony blinked. "Oh, god no. They got him for tax evasion. They thought he was resisting arrest when he was actually resisting being dragged out into the sky's giant hydrogen death beam."

Making a 'poof' gesture with his hands, Tony shook his head.

"In the end I guess he won. Can't really ask a pile of ashes to write a check."

Wandering toward the back door, he dug through the junk drawer until he found Rhodey's take out menus. With a reluctant shrug he tossed the menus on the counter and stuck his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants.

"Order from one of those if you want, I guess. They know to deliver through the mail slot."

Loki stared at the other, trying to fight the urge of his lips to turn up at the story and the open, animated way Stark spoke. The other communicated with his entire body, something a lawyer couldn't afford to do in most cases. Odin had tried to instill his supreme poker face of disdain to his children. Thor failed while Loki succeeded. 

He looked over the menus, some of the restaurants he recognized, others he didn't. Those might have gone out of business by now, or Loki just never came across them. It was a huge city after all. Picking a few things from a Chinese place he often went to with Amora, Loki kept his tone casual, "So, you have a landline?"

"If you think vampires are sleeping on something as useful as phone-lines, I have bad news for you." Tony said, retrieving a long-corded rotary from the corner and sliding it across the marble counter. "Hunting in the age of security cameras isn’t easy. Without newspaper ads and phone-booths we'd be extinct."

Loki paled at the comment, an impressive feat when he almost paper-white already. He pulled the phone and its dock closer. Fingers of one hand traced over the buttons, while those on the other got caught in the spiral cord attaching the two pieces. 

He could call his brother, Odin, the police. What good would that do when he didn't even know where he was? They wouldn't believe that he was being held by a vampire. If Loki said he was being held against his will, perhaps then. 

He glanced up, green eyes meeting those of Tony Stark. 

Tony raised his brows, for once guileless. 

He wanted to sleep. He also wanted Loki to stay. Which meant feeding him and somehow convincing him to go the fuck to sleep as well. If he couldn't trust the man with a phone then he had no business keeping him in the house.

If Loki could play by the rules then there was a chance they could work out....whatever it was he wanted. If not, he'd have no choice but to enthrall him.

As far as tests went it was sloppy, but wasn't that the best way to get a genuine result?

"Go on," he said lightly. "Just say it's for Tony Stark. They'll know what to do."

It was such a tempting offer, but Loki knew a trickster when he saw one. This was too simple, more was at play. From the conversation yesterday among the washing machines it was obvious that Stark knew who Loki was. Which meant that he knew about his family. If he misbehaved, would the vampire go after them? 

While the man seemed to have a sense of humor similar to his own, and hadn't raised a hand to him since he woke up... Loki knew too little about him to judge how he would react to Loki calling for help. 

No, Loki decided he had to wait, figure out a different plan to get out of here. He punched in the number for the Chinese place: told them his order, gave the cheery employee the name and 'where' to send it. Loki ended the call after the estimated delivery time was announced and set the phone back on the counter. Never breaking eye contact as he did.

While his bite was occupied with the phone, Tony helped himself to a bottle of tonic. The mineral solution tasted awful, but they weren't living in the dark ages anymore. Turned out a diet of blood alone wasn't a good way to keep all your hair and fingernails.

Loki was a natural at talking, breezing through the conversation with a certain wit that Tony couldn't help but notice. Abruptly the call concluded, a lull of silence made all the more awkward by Loki’s stare.

Tony tapped his fingers on the glass.

"And you?" he blurted. "How old are you?"

"You took my wallet, I had assumed that you knew that answer. Particularly since you decided to go out of your way to bite me _ twice." _ Loki answered, placing his elbows on the counter and perching his chin on one hand. He ran the other hand over one mauled side of his neck and then the other. One holding older bruises, the other fresh. Yes, he connected the dots that Stark was his attacker that night he thought was a murky blackout drunk blur.

Loki kept his expression bored, like he wasn’t bothered by the fact that he was being forcibly held in the company of a more than probable murderer. Honestly, cannibal wouldn't be an appropriate term, would it? Loki had never had to wonder the semantics of it. 

"But if you must know, I'm twenty, turning twenty-one in a few months." Loki sighed.

"Just making conversation," Tony muttered, and took a long swig with a grimace.

Looking the man up and down, Tony supposed he could see it. He had that angry-at-the-world aura that only young people had the energy to maintain. Regretfully, he also got a better look at the mess he'd left earlier and felt a bit chagrined. If his sire could see him now, he'd be laughing his ass off.

With nothing better to do, he set the bottle down and paced around the island to where Loki was sitting. Stepping behind his back, he raised a brow at the way the knife twitched in his right hand.

Calling on his stores of vitae, he loosed Loki's fingers around the hilt. One at a time until the blade clattered on the counter. Goosebumps rose on Loki's neck, but Tony just moved his hair out of the way after moving the released knife out of reach.

"Just cleaning up after myself. Don't have a cow."

Licking his thumb, he ran it over one of the smaller scrapes on Loki’s hand to show him what he meant.

"It's really your fault, if you didn't smell like that I wouldn't have lost my shit like a goddamn childer."

"I don't see how I have any control over how I _ smell. _ I'm sure there are many others that use the same shampoo or soap as I." Loki remained tense as he felt the other move behind him. Cool thumb and even colder saliva moving across his skin making him grip the knife still in his left hand tighter. He had no idea what purpose this had, but decided not to ask to keep focus on a possible way out.

"I could tell you what they are, then you could get some willing smuck to wear them. Then I'd be on my way," Loki kept his tone light, looking over his shoulder to meet the other's eyes. Smile sharp as he noticed the annoyed look on the older man's face, _ "Just making conversation, _ Stark."

It was slow going, but Tony didn't trust himself to put his mouth any closer. Sure, he was full for the time being, but given how quickly he'd started craving last time it was best not to push it.

Still, it was trying. Even drained as he was, Loki's skin was flushed and warm. Mere millimeters beneath his fingers were hundreds of tiny rivers flowing with that power.

"Not like that. I mean you. Your blood." Moving his palm to Loki's other shoulder to steady him, he leaned in to sniff, searching for words to describe it. "It's... I don't know… It’s just different."

Feeling the other's breath against his shoulder, the overly baggy pajama top having fallen to one side at Stark's treatment. Loki could feel his pulse soar, knew the vampire had to be able to hear, maybe even smell it. They always said that predators could smell fear. 

Not willing to press his luck on attacking Stark himself, Loki thunked the knife he still held against the counter loudly in warning. "How very insightful and _ convenient_." 

"Oh for fuck's sake," Tony groaned, sliding his hands off and snatching his water to wet his now dry mouth. Deciding he'd done enough to satisfy basic standards of decency, he stalked away. He washed his hands, trying to ignore the sweet temptation of the other’s blood, old and stale as it was.

Once finished, he leaned against the far cabinets with his arms crossed.

"I'm only telling you because I think you ought to know. Figured it might make you rethink going to seedy bars alone in the middle of the night. But whatever, it's your life."

"If it's my life, then you'll let me go?!" Loki challenged back, real anger finally showing about his lack of control of the situation. Then the doorbell chimed. His whole body twitched, the desire to run to the door so strong. To beat on it and yell for help. 

He stood up from the stool slowly, taking a few slow steps closer to the door. 

Then he bolted towards it. 

Tony's breath caught in his throat as Loki darted out of the room. Deep in his mind his inner Beast roared to life at the sight of prey fleeing, and at the same time the last vestiges of humanity screamed at him that if Loki got away he was going to go straight to the cops.

Shadow stepping through the room, he flew as mist from corner to corner and materialized in the entry hall. It was a round room with a tall ceiling and wood paneling all around. An old Persian rug spanned from the stairs to the front door and he stretched his arms out to block the way.

"Stop!" he ordered, he fangs extending purely out of reflex. His vision sharpened as he opened himself up to the stores of power within, and he knew his eyes would be glowing for as long as he stayed attuned.

Among the stores was Loki's own blood, and even if he hadn't put power behind his words that connection alone would have ensured Loki's compliance. Blood could not harm the flesh of it's own body. Even once it transferred, it remained connected to the donor.

Loki's body froze, his face blanched and drawn in an expression of open fear. Tony thought he might not look so different himself. Terrified eyes bored into his own, and in a breathless voice he said, "Sit down."

Loki sat. The door rang again. Heavy fear clogged his senses and he had to rub his face to clear his head. Gritting his teeth, he forced his incisors up and whispered sharp and crisp.

"Don't say a word until I tell you to."

A voice called from the porch, some muffled approximation of his name. He hurried to the door and grabbed his blackout gloves from the hook. Tugging them on in half the time it usually took, he pulled the edges all the way up to his elbows and carefully unlatched the mail slot that was normally shackled shut for safety.

It was over-sized, specially made for daytime deliveries. Just the sight of sunlight through the slot made his skin crawl.

"Thank you, sir, appreciate it," he called, struggling to keep his voice level.

"Anytime, buddy," came the delivery driver's oblivious response, and Tony let out a breath he hadn't noticed himself holding.

Redoing the ritual in reverse, he made sure the latch was locked and gripped the gloves in his hand. The mortal was struggling behind him. 

Setting his face in a flat frown, he turned and met the young man's eyes. Loki clearly had a lot to say, but with the blood magic holding him back he was stoppered, the words gained pressure the longer they were held in. 

He’d been careless about this whole thing, this strange fantasy disrupting his better judgement. This man wasn’t some docile pet, he’d have killed Tony already if he thought he could. This had already gone too far.

"Go to the kitchen," he said. Red faced and furious, Loki complied. Grabbing the food, Tony followed, and threw it carelessly on the crowded counter.

Tugging Loki into a chair by the fabric of his shirt, able to move the taller man as easily as a rag doll, Tony sat next to him and set an elbow on the table.

"Let's get one thing clear, here. _ I'm _ in charge. Understand? You're here because _ I _ decided not to kill you. Not because of God, or your parents, or whatever the hell helps you sleep at night. Because of _ me. _ So if you can play nice, then you might just make it out of here in one piece. But if you're going to run around playing tricks, then I'm going to use my own tricks. Is that what you want? Answer me."

The moment that he was given leave to speak, Loki gasped first for air. The fear of losing his voice first and foremost having also took from him the ability to breathe in his hyped up state. As he tried to fill his lungs, there was almost a burning sensation on his own tongue. It grew worse with each passing moment, the cause hitting Loki almost physically. 

Answer, whatever power the vampire held over him was trying to force Loki to answer. Loki was a skilled liar, but it felt like that attribute was being barred from him. So instead, he tried to keep his answer short.

"No, I don't want you to use whatever the_ fuck _ this is on me. Happy?" 

There was defiance in his eyes, daring Stark. Telling him without words just what he thought of him with his glare. 

"What would make me happy is a good day's sleep. But you've gone and ruined that, so you might as well eat." Drawing his power back in, Tony slouched in his own chair. Even though he'd gotten his way, it didn't exactly make him feel better.

This whole situation was a mess, and he knew the onus fell on him for that. He needed to get his head on straight before Loki found a chainsaw and cut it off. 

Trouble was, he didn't know why he'd spared Loki in the first place. The man was right. If it was blood or scent or sex he wanted, there were a million ways to get them that didn't involve abducting a stranger and forcing him to play house.

"You can move, but don't leave this room." Tony pushed himself up and retrieved the phone from the table. Grateful for the extra long cord, he walked out of sight. He needed to make a call.

Loki glared at the other's back, for a moment he entertained the idea of throwing the food that Tony had made and what was just delivered around the floor and walls.

Perhaps empty those highly suspicious bags into the sink. A childish tantrum that might be satisfying for a few moments, but Loki didn't know what punishment would be wrought. After what had just happened, Stark might not be willing to let Loki order more food and instead let him go hungry _ at the least. _

Sighing, he rubbed at his temple, whatever creepy voodoo the vampire had used on him left Loki with a headache. Compounded with the fact that he was probably anemic from blood loss, he was feeling like shit. 

Loki rolled the words from earlier around in his head, if Stark was telling the truth about his smell things had changed exponentially for Loki. Even more so than the Earth shaking revelation that vampires were real. He swallowed at the thought that he'd never be safe outside once the sun fell again. 

Loki was sure that he could work with that though, right? It'd be limiting, but he could still go about a 'normal' life in the daytime. 

If he ever saw daylight again, that is. 

Food was what Loki decided his short term goal would be, not like there was anything else that was productive he could do within the constraints that Stark left him with… The bag held a pair of chopsticks so he didn't have to reduce himself to using the spork.

Wondering what the vampire planned to do with him, Loki spitefully ate his meal.

______________

Shutting himself into the nearest bathroom, Tony opened his contacts and hovered his thumb over two names. 

Rhodey or Pepper? One he should call, and the other was who he wanted to call. Tapping in resignation, he raised the speaker to his ear.

Dial tones. A lot of dial tones. Sheets rustling.

"It's nine in the morning."

"Hey Pep-"

"What did you do?"

Tony winced. "It's more a question of what I _ didn't _ do..."

"Should I call the cabal?"

"Definitely don't do that," he grumbled. "It's not political. It's-"

Grasping for some kind of explanation of his situation, he sat on the toilet and pinched his nose. "There's a human in my kitchen. That I drank from. Twice."

"Tony..."

"Who knows my name, fuck me, I told him my real name." 

Pepper sat up, and whispered something to someone.

"Is that Barton?"

"Zip it, we're talking about your bad decisions right now."

A door opened and closed, and the notion that they were both hiding in bathrooms in their pajamas made him smile despite the dire straights.

"You know what you have to do–"

"Seriously I could have just _ lied _–"

"Tony."

He laid his hand in his face and groaned. "I can't, I don't get it. I had him there, I was in his mind and I just couldn't."

"You drank twice. You already can't lie to him. You are playing with fire here. Kill him or contain him. It's not that complicated." He knew that's what she would say, but some part of him had hoped she'd at least sugar coat it a bit.

"You don't understand, there's something strange about him. His scent. I frenzied. He got ten feet from me and the next I knew I was mauling him."

A long silence stretched, and Tony started to get nervous. Then, sharp snickering.

"Oh hell, you fucked him didn't you?"

He wanted to sink into the floor. "Not exactly."

"Tony, honestly. A mortal? I knew you were a wreck but this is another level."

"Thank you for the stunning reassurance."

Gradually Pepper composed herself, and then sighed in something approaching pity. "Tony, you can't keep him."

"But I want him...." Tony whined.

"Then enthrall him. You can't just keep a human like a pet, Tony. It's bad enough getting attached to them when they die so quick, but then you have blood bonds to consider, and the fact that you apparently just abducted him in an alleyway–”

"It was mutual!" Tony interjected...and then grimaced. "Mostly. Probably."

"Take him home. Wipe his memory. Move on."

"But–"

"Goodbye, Tony."

"Pep–"

"Good. Bye." 

The line cut. Damn it.

Shooting a quick text to Rhodey about their temporary house guest, he wet his face and wiped it dry with a towel.

Pepper was right, of course. There were reasons vampires didn't fuck their food. It made things complicated. And if it happened more than once...dangerous.

The fact that he hadn't enthralled Loki right away was a red flag, and in retrospect it was just as alarming that he hadn't lied when given the chance.

A blood bond could already be forming before he'd even noticed. If that was the case it would only get messier.

Resolved, he threw the towel in the sink and followed the line of the phone cord through the hall, back through the dim house, and into the warm flicker of old light-bulbs in the kitchen.

Loki was right where he'd left him, eating. So he was at least _ capable _ of following orders.

Tony stared at him, at the food going in his mouth and the foreign motion of a jaw chewing. He knew it was weird, but he couldn't help it. 

Pepper had laughed at him for even thinking of a human in a sexual way, but it was exactly that humanity that made him so entrancing. The warmth of his body, the softness of new skin.

Placing both hands on the back of the chair across from Loki, he kept his silence until the man was done swallowing. Loki’s eyes never left his, always aware, always ready to react.

"I'm going to take you home," Tony said. "I shouldn’t have brought you here, and I apologize for that. Allow me to make this right."

Loki narrowed his eyes, suspicious as he asked with obvious doubt, “That easy? Decided I was too much for you to handle.” He shrugged his thin shoulders, fighting off the strange sense of disappointment that Stark had taken from him the chance to figure his own way out. Like he had been cheated in some way, “I suppose you are far from the first or last to think so.” 

Maybe that was why Loki egged the vampire on, perhaps also for the fact that Loki worried that taking him home meant that Tony was going to kill him or Amora to keep his secret.

“Did you even get my stuff from the Super?”

As a matter of fact, he didn't. 

"We can stop by on our way. After nightfall, obviously."

The barb was hard to ignore, given that Loki hadn't seemed to mind how he'd handled him last night. Oh, how he wanted to make him eat those words, but that was the kind of thinking that got him here in the first place.

When he'd fantasized about this moment, about having Loki in house and at his mercy, he hadn't pictured it like this. These rebellions rich boy types were usually all talk. The sort of person that acted tough but cracked under pressure. He'd pictured him compliant, perhaps even begging for his life. 

The reality was very nearly the opposite. The harder he pushed the more resilient Loki proved himself to be. It made him want to dig deeper until he found a pressure Loki really would break under. A pressure he could apply until Loki yielded like he had last night.

"Think you can behave yourself until then?”

Loki almost growled as he hissed, “Are you fucking with me? You left my stuff, honestly?” That was almost the entirety of his fall wardrobe, Loki didn’t have the money to replace it all when he made so little at the bookstore and he wasn’t going to go crawling back to Odin to ask for more. 

“There’s no point! It’s all been stolen by now, leaving anything unattended for even twenty minutes downtown is a guarantee that you’ll never see it again.” Loki dropped his head into his hands with a groan, “Fuck, I’d almost rather you’d killed me.” 

Sending a quick glare he added, “that’s not an invitation.” 

“Seriously? They’re just clothes.” Tony started, and then foresaw the descent of this conversation back into complete insanity. “You know what, sure, okay, your clothes are important. If they were stolen, I will personally track down whoever took them and make them pay. Satisfied?”

No, Loki wasn't satisfied, it was obvious that Stark didn't care about the inconvenience he had dropped on Loki, not once but twice. He had gotten all the _ wrong _ attention from the bruising on his neck from the customers that visited. Had a police officer even stop by to check in on him since someone reported the clerk looking like he was going to keel over or was in danger in some way. 

He started to stand up, opening his mouth to chew out the vampire, an irony in itself, but stopped when the room swayed causing him to collapse back in the chair.

Trying to remember the basic first aid that Amora had pounded into him, he pinched the bridge of his nose and put his head between his knees. Trying to get more blood to his brain. The fast food in Loki’s stomach roiled.

“O-kay, great. Glad we had this talk,” Tony grumbled, picking Loki off of the stool and perching him between his arms bridal style. The man gave him a dirty look. “Look, I’m tired as hell and you’re about to pass out. If you really want to have some inane argument about your damn wardrobe, then we’re having it in bed with our eyes closed.”

Ignoring the inevitable protests, he took the stairs down to the basement.

Loki snorted at the suggestion, trying not to show how unnerved he was by the strength that the man had. Though the hold was awkward with the fact that Loki was indeed taller than Stark. The railing lining one side of the stairs smacked his feet a few times as they descended down to a basement Loki didn’t know existed.

"What will you do? Lock me inside a coffin with you since whatever lock you had didn't work?" 

“I don’t sleep in a goddamn coffin.” Tony sighed. He wasn’t some old guard geezer. Coffins were for travel only, when a safe dark place to weather the daytime wasn’t a given. But of course most people didn’t generally wander into other people’s basements like they did other people’s luggage and so the coffins became the thing talked about in urban legends.

As for the lock... yeah that was weird. Very, _ very _ weird. It should have been as solid as Fort Knox, magically bound so that only he could open it. Which was why Loki had to be here, behind less esoteric bars.

“And the lock worked fine. It kept you in until I woke up, as it was supposed to,” he lied. Best not let Loki know that he could apparently hijack Tony’s magic.

Although the main floor had the appearance of occupancy it was mostly for show. He was turned by an old lineage, and they had correspondingly Victorian standards of what constituted a respectable household. The actual living areas were all underground, and styled according to his more modern tastes.

Concrete and steel formed most of the walls, with metal doors that could take a direct hit from a 747 and hold their shape. Aligning his eye to the retinal scanner, he waited only a moment before stepping through and setting Loki on his feet.

On either side were matching statues he’d picked up in Italy just before the Great War, and a scraggly old ficus that might as well have been immortal too, it had been with him that long. The second door wasn’t so advanced. Just solid old oak with a single heavy steel lock. 

Loki gave them a skeptical look and Tony quirked his lips in a wry grin.

“Don’t knock analog. It may not have any of the bells and whistles, but it can’t be hacked and it never needs new batteries.”

In his hurry to get up he had left it unlocked. Sloppy. This time Tony made sure to seal it behind them, and put the keys back under his shirt.

It was a fairly modest apartment, in his opinion. The couches were bought for comfort rather than looks and the TV only took up half the wall instead of the floor to ceiling home theater screen the broker had tried to sell him. Bits and pieces from every era were scattered around, just the things he couldn’t seem to part with. An end table from a previous home, an amateurish oil painting his mother left him when she died.

Grabbing a wayward pair of boxers from where they’d been dropped on the back of the sofa, he tossed them at the empty spot where his laundry hamper usually sat and kicked his well-read copy of The Slaughterhouse Five under the loveseat.

“Door’s keyed to me, so don’t even try. You can take the couch or the couch, and please don’t try to slit my throat, it’s a really annoying way to wake up.”

"You know that from experience? I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to do that." Loki mused as he refused the arm offered to him. His head was still pounding slightly but he was a spiteful creature and did not have any trouble admitting that fact.

Thankfully, Loki found that he didn't have far to go when Stark dropped his feet back to the ground. Only three steps and he flopped onto one of the leather Italian style couches that had become so popular recently. Loki was certain that Frigga has a similar one, these were black and not that awful powder blue like hers. 

While his mother dressed like a queen, her sense of home decor was left wanting. 

Head cushioned on one arm, Loki immediately closed his eyes. One, to make the room stop spinning. Two, to avoid any more conversation since Loki did like where his remaining blood was and knew he was probably working the older man's last nerve by now. Stark had more patience than he thought so far. Not many could deal with Loki's smart-mouthing before taking a pop at him. 

Now, Loki just had to worry about a bite being taken out of his throat.

In the background he could hear Stark grumbling and shifting about. The worn leather of the other couch creaking as he settled on it. Then Loki waited, bordering on sleep, but not quite reaching it. 

For all his sass and dismissals, Loki was afraid. He did not believe that things could be this simple. This must be a trick, Stark wanting him to play along till he could get rid of him in a less messy way.

The fact that if the vampire gave an order Loki _ couldn't _ disobey or fight back was horrifying. He had already been controlled for much of his life, didn't need to put himself under an even more suppressing weight. Loki had managed to walk away from Odin with consequences he could _ live _ with. 

What power Stark held over him made Loki think that he'd not get away so unscathed. Again, this had to be all a ruse, Stark playing with his food. 

The hours passed and the vampire was snoring lightly. Loki was still awake, thoughts racing. His breathing and heart rate remained slow and steady, remembering his lessons from when he received his scuba diving certificate when Odin decided to take the family on a tropical holiday nearly a decade ago. Who knew the skill would be such a clutch now.

Loki wasn’t stupid, far from it. While he had not devoted himself to the sciences while in school, that did not mean that he wasn’t adequately learned in the wide stretching subject either. Spending hour upon hour in a bookstore with average traffic left Loki with many hours to read, to learn. 

A retina scanner, if that was what it truly was and not an over-sized and complex toy. The theory of such a thing had been first mentioned in texts decades earlier and appeared in science fiction movies. No one had yet secured or published a patent for a _ working _ scanner. 

Yet, Stark seemed to possess one. 

The how and why was not important, though it irked Loki to not know or understand. He was used to being the smartest guy in the room, even five drinks in and hits from blunt. That was not to say that Loki was wise, he knew that all too well from his past choices. 

Still, the important matter at hand was that there hadn't been a retina scanner on the way _ out _ of the basement, just the way in. The vampire had practically dangled the key in front of Loki's eyes before he tucked it under Stark’s shirt while he carried him. 

Hands clenching in frustration, Loki could picture each little detail of the key he had gotten from those short moments. What good that would do him, not mu-

There was a sting and a pressure in his right hand, startling Loki. Moving as slowly and quietly as possible, he lifted the hand. Uncurling his fingers to reveal a key. Not just any key, _ the _ key, of this he had no doubt. 

How? Why? Loki couldn't afford to think much on it, he had no idea how many hours had passed nor how close Stark was to waking up. Rolling himself off the couch, Loki hoped it would sound like he was just moving in his sleep. Keeping himself calm, he slowly stood up and made his way to the door. 

_ Silence _ , Loki chanted in his mind, this was no different than the many times he had snuck out of Odin’s fortress to be a deviant in the middle of the night. When he aided clumsy _ Thor _ in and out past curfew.

The lock turned with the key the door opened softly on well oiled hinges. Glancing back once more at the vampire, he crept his way up the stairs and towards the main door he had almost reached before. 

Loki spared a thought for his shoes, what might be left of the clothes he was wearing the night before and his wallet. Really there was no question that he was desperate to run out barefoot. Scanning the perimeter of the entry hall, his eyes instead fell on a person silhouetting the door to the kitchen. The man startled at the sight of him, then he smiled.

"Sorry, didn't see you there. You must be Tony's guest.”

* * *

Notes: 

1984 was when the drinking age was changed to 21 in America, so woo, Loki's still legal.

DINK: 1980s term for Double Income No Kids

Ketchup has been around since 1876, so we can assume that it was one of the last 'new' things that Tony had the pleasure of trying before he was turned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We need your help deciding on the format of this fic, in the last chapter there were line breaks to separate the perspectives of the characters. In this chapter we didn't add them in. 
> 
> Which style is easier for you all to read? With or without the breaks?  
Please comment with your opinion so we can decide what to do for future chapters! Also we'd love to hear what you think will happen next?
> 
> Writing a quick "loved it!", keyboard smashes, emojis, long rambling squees, questions or theories on the fic in a comment, it doesn't matter. We accept them all.


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